I always change around You
by Rowan Arkenson
Summary: A DH fic. A bit dark. OOC. Wouldn't really call it angst romance. More dark love. But angst romance seems to fit best. Title to change.
1. Prologue

_**A/N:** So this was just gonna be a one-shot, but someone reviewed wondering if there was going to be more, so I thought, why not. It may well not continue much, but we shall seee. The title will also probably change... So if you wanna look me up, do it by my name instead of the story title. :-)  
Rowan x_

**Prologue**

Corner of your eye. I saw it; just a flash. A moment's honesty. We've been falling for so long: gradually. Insults get more pathetic, sound less and less enthusiastic. "Bastard." I almost heard it, but all I could see was your eyes. A green-grey skyline of hopelessness. All they see is Green. I see despair. But only when you look at me. And then I walk past, and it's Green again; just like Lily's, I hear, recording the voices of those you love.  
And then I walk past. "Scum!" I yell, smirking; the chorus of laughs hit him, and me; we scrabble we punch and we roll over and over again, and all I can think of is your body and your face, so so close, and all I want to do... So I hit, hard. Crack.  
We scrabble up: we both felt it. fck.  
Fire and heat and we get blasted apart, pulled away by both sides – pulled apart.  
And hatred returns. I always change around you.

I can hear you breathing. Don't you think I can, in the dark? I could recall how you breathe in an instant: shallow, but fast; as if you're afraid, but trying to escape. I count to ten, moving forwards, and strike out. You catch my wrist. Close enough now to feel your breath on my cheek: fresh, like newly cut grass, in your spotless clothes; Your scent in my hair: the apples and lavenders; Your skin to mine: Electric.  
And suddenly You're against Me.  
Against the wall.  
So we're kissing.  
...And I'm kissing You.  
And I'm not the same. I don't feel – anything. Lost. Whenever you're near.

Explosion. I press up against you and feel you react; you don't object, you don't push me away, you just... let me. But it's not enough. I slam you hard into the wall and feel your intoxicating taste on my lips, and beg you to come nearer. Your hands find my back, and dig in, deep; claws, to hold on with, and to punish...

My eyes still sting from a short night's sleep. Memories and lust block mind. So I just walk, in silence, let them argue over my head, and remain invisible.  
Corner of your eye. I saw it; just a flash. Back again.  
"Asshole."  
"fck you!"  
I always change around you. And I hate it.


	2. Harry: Whore

So, today, Malfoy looks like a whore. I'd tell him so, if I couldn't still feel the bruises from yesterday.

"Harry, are you even listening?" said Ron. He pokes me in the shoulder and I wince. Ron pulls back, apologetically. His red hair is curling round his face now, giving his freckles reason to blush. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Forgot."

Hermione gives him one of her disapproving you're-an-idiot looks and I smile to her gratefully. "I'm fine," I lie. "Really. Just a few bruises left."

"That was quite a fight you had yesterday," Hermione said, tight-lipped as ever. She flicks her hair over her shoulder, unconsciously; Hermione's beautiful. Her hair has grown longer too; brown cascades to the small of her back. And she's become smaller, somehow. Now, me and Ron tower over her, ever so slightly, and I feel like a protective brother. But not a lover.

"Yeah, well... Malfoy's an asshole," I defended myself, carelessly. In the corner of my eye: I look back to him. He's not your stereotypical whore, I suppose: black turtle neck jumper and hair products and literally thousands of girls hanging on his arm and his ass. It's disgusting.

...Ok, so maybe not _literally _thousands.

We walk into the Great Hall, at a faster pace, with Malfoy and his gang bang behind us now. I think I hear him yell something, but meh. Better to ignore.

Sitting down, Ron and Hermione tend to their breakfasts. But I can't help staring somehow. He's just... _such _an asshole. It's hard to believe. And not even Voldemort has made me as angry as I feel right now. I look at his smug face: his grinning, poncey, cheek-boned face. And his stupidly white hair: short, but nearly reaching past his ears. I see him laugh and clench my fists.

"You alright Harry?" It's Ron, at my side. They've never felt my anger before. To them, I'm still Harry Potter. God fucking saviour of everything.

I shrug. "Just tired, don't feel like eating." I force a smile, and then notice the owl post in front of me. I smile at Hedwig, scratch her grey spotted chin, and watch her fly away. Just the boring old usual: the Daily Mail, a letter from Sirius, a packet of sweets from Mrs Weasley. Nothing new. Nothing interesting.

Today, Malfoy's interesting. And it kills me to notice.


End file.
